Tea, elves, jesters and madness all around
by The Hellsing Alchemist
Summary: Meet Kraid, a unsual khajiit who explores the lands of Skyrim and gets himself dragged into all kinds of insane events on his way. Well, actually madness is always running after him, wait... that's Cicero or was it Sheogorath? And it all went worse when Neloth discovered a strange book in his tower.
1. Chapter 1

**Tea, elves, jesters and madness all around**

**A/N: Hello! =)**

**This is the story of Kraid, a khajiit and probably the most unlucky Dragonborn to walk the land and who is also the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, but deep down he has a big fluffy heart. He was born and raised in Skyrim so he doesn't talk like a normal khajiit and for some unknown reason, he's also a walking magnet to all kinds of insane things. I hope you like his crazy adventures.**

**Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls V Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.**

– **Chapter 1 –**

"Interesting." Neloth said to himself once again as he towered over his new source of research with a frown. The small ball of light that he conjured a while back flickered slightly around him.

"What's that, master Neloth?" Talvas wondered out loudly over his shoulder with a curious look. The young dark elf flinched as his master slowly turned around to face him stroking his pointy beard deep in thoughts.

"A book. Quite old, too colorful for my tastes and rather… moldy but a book nonetheless. Yet…" Neloth stated more to himself than to his apprentice. His bright crimson eyes traveled over Talvas as if he were measuring him, searching for something. That made the elf step back, he knew that look of his master too well. "I may need a… willing subject to succeed in further experiments." He concluded, clapping his hands.

"You see, I'm trying to manage all the tasks you gave me this morning and that flame atronach's still trying to set the cage on fire so maybe I…" Talvas quickly tried to elaborate a legitimate excuse to escape another gruesome test. That day was not even over and he already endured at least 2 failed spells. Actually, about the second one, he never saw when Neloth cast the damn thing.

"Of course I'm not going to use you, this will need a rather sturdy materi- I mean voluntary. And that's the rarest item here besides a good tea." Neloth walked around as the ball of light followed his steps and poked his apprentice in the chest with an unnatural strength, which made the other wince in pain. "You see, that won't do at all. That reminds me, where's Varona with my tea? Can't anyone here keep track of the time?!"

"Well master Neloth, she's dead. Actually it has been 3 months already." Talvas replied as he tried to keep himself as far from his master's reach as possible and soon started to rearrange the mess of ingredients and books over the room.

"Oh, that's right." The dark elf stopped, charging some spell over his right hand. "Drovas! Where are you? And don't water down my tea again!"

Then, as he released the calling spell the whole place trembled, shaking everything around them out of place. Talvas still tried to catch a few bottles of potions in his arms but another violent tremor sent him flat on his back. Amidst the whole chaos, Neloth stood unfazed.

"What was that?" asked the old mage looking up, completely oblivious to all hell breaking loose around him.

"I think something just hit the house." Talvas crawled around holding his sore head, avoiding the tide of objects on the floor as another powerful blow tilted the very core of the mushroom where the house was built.

"You don't say!" said Neloth with sarcasm etched in his voice. "Now, how about you do something about this, maybe then I can continue with my research." And with that, the elf returned to his chair as if nothing ever happened.

"But Master! You can't… I mean… it could be dangerous out there!" the poor apprentice looked at him with sheer panic. As if to reinforce his statement, a loud roar made both elves cover their ears.

"Oh great, dragons again!" exclaimed the old elf with an exasperate tone.

However, before any of them could move. A dull silence followed that deafening howl and the tremors stopped just as suddenly.

"Well, I think that's settled then. Search for any damage out there." The mage shrugged his shoulders in calm fashion. "And go see if Drovas is still alive on your way down, I don't want to look for a new steward so soon."

"O-okay." Still trembling from head to toe and a bit skeptical about the whole thing, Talvas slowly rose from his shelter (also known as under the table) and dusted his clothes, trying to look just a bit more composed.

Yet, before he could decide if leaving was really a sane thing to do, someone opened the door down there. At first he thought it might be Drovas, but the sound of heavy steps and the distinct clinking of armor pointed otherwise. Neloth seemed to notice the unusual guest too as he rose from his chair.

"What now?" he asked sounding a bit annoyed. "I really hope those foolish bandits are not trying to steal something from me again."

They didn't wait much to see who it was. The familiar figure of a tall khajiit clad in an orcish armor soon rose and landed rather clumsily at the small bridge in the center of the room. His armor was covered in a thick layer of ashes; a deep gash that looked like claws was also a new addition to his look.

"I hope you don't mind having a dead dragon on your yard, Neloth." He said as he dropped a massive dual bladed axe still covered in dark red on the floor, seeming tired and somewhat in pain. "That one was quite big and went down kicking and biting. We had a bit of a problem when it crashed down on the house." He told them while touching his face where a deep cut tore his cheek open.

"Ah, my friend from house Telvanni." Neloth greeted Kraid with an amused look. "Came in at the right moment, indeed." Whatever the dark elf had in mind to say at that moment was never heard. Another voice, this one was loud and unknown to them, cut him abruptly.

"Listener! Wait!"

What happened next made both elves raise their eyebrows in perfect synchrony.

A man wearing what looked like a bright red jester outfit emerged behind the khajiit, looking equally beaten, and tackled the warrior head first to the wooden floor with a loud noise. Both lied stretched there before them for a few moments, tangled in a messy pile of limbs and weapons.

"Cicero, how many times I said to not call me like that here." Kraid growled as he fought his way to unlatch the man from himself.

"But Cicero is worried with his Liste- I mean brother." Wailed the other one, clinging to his arm. "It's my duty as Keeper!"

"I know but now it's not the time Cicero, I can't feel my arm anymore." The khajiit finally managed to sit straight, leaning against the wall, breathing with some effort.

"What in the name of Azura was that about?" Talvas spoke first, as he looked from one to another.

"I must say that it was strangely… entertaining to watch, but I fear one of our guests here is bleeding himself dry, Talvas, in my carpet by the way." Neloth stated now with a serious tone. "Take him to where I can mend him back to his former state before the whole floor gets ruined with blood stains."

Talvas promptly moved to do as he was told, however as he approached them, the jester named Cicero somehow hit him with a well aimed strike. And soon enough, Talvas found himself sprawled on the floor again, this time with a angry jester pointing the sharp end of a black dagger at his neck.

"Oh, I forgot to say to be careful with the jester, he's a member of the Dark Brotherhood by the looks of it." He heard his master voice calling from one of the rooms as he looked for potions and probably other things. "Never understood their eccentric fashion sense, really, a jester!" he mumbled to himself as he searched through the shelves.

"Thanks for the warning, master Neloth…"

"Cicero, let him be." Kraid ordered in an impatient tone of someone that repeated that line far too many times in a day. "He's a friend." The khajiit got up using his axe to support him, undoing the laces from his damaged gloves and tossed it on the ground revealing a deep hole where one of the dragon fangs almost tore his forearm apart.

"Poor Cicero is sorry for his behavior." The jester apologized looking ashamed and in a moment the dagger was gone. He then proceeded to pull the elf back to his feet with a huge grin on his face. Talvas thought it was an equally unsettling and scary sight. "Cicero is happy to meet a friend of his…" he paused for a moment, looking for the right word. "His brother."

"_This can't be good…"_ Talvas said to himself as the jester suddenly got a hold of one of his hands and skipped around him chanting.

**A/N: So this is the end of the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading it.**

**Next chapter will tell the (not so epic XD) tale of how Kraid and his loyal follower Cicero ended up in Tel Mithryn.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again! **

**Thanks for reading this little story and for the kind review too. I hope you like this new chapter. A bit of a short chapter before the main plot starts. ^^ We will see more of Kraid's past as the story goes. **

**Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls V Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.**

– **Chapter 2 –**

"_Sometimes I wonder how I get myself in such… unusual events."_ the khajiit thought as he once again tried to find a comfortable position to sleep. That morning, he and Cicero were exploring the isle of Solstheim looking for dwemer ruins or caves that they may have not found yet, and when the sun was starting to fade they returned with their last finding, a strange crimson sword named Bloodskal blade which Kraid now carried along with his Wuuthrad. The jester jumped up and down along the way, looking eager to find something to test the new weapon.

Ironically, the "test" found them first. As if by some divine prank, as soon as Cicero uttered those words, a deafening roar of a frost dragon made them both stop dead on their tracks. The khajiit had to tackle Cicero on the ground to avoid the impending attack as the huge winged beast flew over them with its jaw wide open. Amid the cloud of volcanic ashes that covered the whole island, they stumbled around the desolated forest for a wider space with a better view of their enemy as the dragon attacked relentlessly with its ice breath.

"Come back here, you overgrown lizard!" Cicero shouted as he waved his ebony dagger in the air impatiently. "I wonder if I could make a rug with a dragon… Cicero thinks it would look really nice, but just a bit uncomfortable too." As if considering his idea of a new set of decoration, the man put his hand over his chin thinking and mumbling how the Night Mother might like his gift, right in the middle of the battle, oblivious to the sharp pieces of ice tossed at them.

"Don't provoke that thing Cicero!" Kraid replied desperately as he avoided another well aimed attack at his head. That dragon seemed to really hate him. It completely ignored the presence of his colorful and loud companion. _"Huge ugly dragon with a nasty temper…. Yeah, probably some of Miraak's remaining pets."_ He thought when a shard of ice got stuck on his chest armor with deadly accuracy over his heart. Somehow, he could see that insane dragonborn laughing at his clumsy fighting somewhere in oblivion, or whatever hole that Hermaeus Mora may have dragged the cursed man.

Then the beast finally landed before them, raising a thick wall of ashes as its large wings moved around. It was hard to see a thing in front of him but he could tell they were near Tel Mithryn by the large silhouette of the tower not very far. At his side, Cicero laughed opening deep gashes everywhere he could reach with his poisoned blade as the dragon failed to seize him with its claws. Kraid saw a chance to strike back. Raising his axe high in the air, the khajiit brought the heavy blade down with all his might.

Apparently, even half blind by the ashes he hit the target, he could feel that the blade cut its way against the neck of the beast as it roared and trashed around in pain. When Kraid tried to pull the axe for a second and final strike, things went downhill. Or should he say upwards?

The frenzied dragon opened its strong wings once more and twisted its neck in a desperate attempt to escape and Kraid realized with horror that the axe got stuck deep in its thick scaly flesh. Soon enough he found himself flying several feet over the ground and holding onto his weapon for dear life as the dragon took off again.

He didn't even see what really happened, as he was quite busy glued to his axe and screaming bloody murder to whatever daedric prince that loved to put him under such suicidal probations. Truth be told, Kraid knew he was not the best nor the brightest dragonborn to walk over Skyrim, actually he had a sinking suspicion that he might be the most clumsy and plagued with bad luck of them all but never discussed the matter with the Greybeards. He made a mental note, if he somehow survived, to visit High Hrothgar for some… historical research.

In the end, the dragon managed to fly blindly over the irregular plains for a while and then it finally crashed over Tel Mithryn, shaking the whole tower and the earth with it while Kraid almost chopped his own tongue off as his jaw was clamped shut with the impact. Dizzy and with his once bright orange fur covered in gray ashes, the khajiit got up from the spot where he was launched, not very far from the apparently unmoving dragon. He tried a few steps but his trembling legs failed to support him. A terrible ringing echoed in his ears, his ribs were sore and the armor was a mess of bent metal and claw marks. Warm blood was trailing down his cheek, and yet he seemed to be in one piece and still breathing.

"Listener! Are you alright?" he heard Cicero's worried voice approaching but was unable to locate the source of the sound and his fuzzy vision didn't help either. "Cicero told you many times, I do the crazy deadly stunts not you." The jester sounded equally amused and distressed. "Poor Cicero would be really sad if something happens to his Listener."

"Don't worry…" Kraid told him while coughing, his voice hoarse with all that shouting and for swallowing enough ashes for a lifetime on his not so graceful fall. "I'm not dead yet… but that was awfully close."

As he limped over the large beast to retrieve his Wuuthrad, long forgotten on the half severed neck of the frost dragon, a slight movement caught his attention. Kraid did notice that it was still alive; he had not absorbed its soul as it always happened when he defeated a dragon. Yet he did not expect that it actually had enough strength to chew him to death.

The last thing he saw was the huge jaws of the dragon closing over his extended arm like a bear trap. A loud snap of metal and bones twisting together under the sheer pressure of the massive fangs echoed in the air. It was then that they finally had the opportunity to test how sharp the Bloodskal blade really was. On the down side, he was not so sure that his right arm would make it to see another day.

And so that was the tale of how he ended inside Tel Mithryn that evening. Luckily enough, Neloth was there and was willing to mend the injury and stitch it back what was left. It seems that the master wizard didn't even look worried about having the actual leader of the Dark Brotherhood at his house, maybe because the dark elf was quite delighted to have a new specimen to study so close to his tower. His only complaint was that he preferred a living dragon the next time. Kraid felt a bit bad about Talvas though, the poor apprentice was soon tasked to carry the heavy bones of the slain dragon all over the place.

Tired and with every bit of him still sore, even with the restorative spells that Neloth cast on him, they saw no other choice besides staying there for the night. Camping out there in the dark while the ashspawn frolicked around then was not a very tempting thing to do.

Due to the lack of a proper place for guests, he and his Keeper were relocated to the only relatively empty space, the storage room.

There was only a bedroll availiable, which he promptly gave to Cicero as he was quite used sleeping on the floor for most of his life. The place was dark, cramped, covered in intricate layers of webs and its owners too, as Cicero soon discovered a spider as large as his own fist crawling over him at some point. Yet these weren't the things troubling his sleep.

"Cicero…" Kraid said to the dark room. "You are sleeping on my tail." The khajiit stated rather annoyed as the jester somehow rolled all the way up to him. "Can you _please_ move a bit?"

**A/N: I hope you liked this chapter and feel free to leave a review. **

**Next chapter will have Spriggans, Lucien the nanny and Uncle Sheo joins the ride. See you there. =D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello people! ^^**

**This chapter got a bit longer than I expected but I hope you enjoy reading it. And thanks for the review, it makes me really happy that you gave this little story a chance. **

**So, let's dance. ;D**

**Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls V Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.**

– **Chapter 3 –**

He did not know how long he slept that night. After a long time rolling from one side to another because of the biting cold, the pain and to avoid being squeezed out his life by Cicero (who he noticed a few times before, had the most strange and troubled sleep ever) somehow Kraid found a way to rest. In the end they managed to spend a rather normal and civilized night at Tel Mithryn, there were no accidents, nothing broken and no missing limbs or items. But it was too much to ask for a peaceful morning.

A loud yell cut through his brain like an ice dagger. Opening his eyes, Kraid tried to get up as his injured arm protested loudly with the sudden effort. The sound of glass breaking and furniture being tossed around got louder and louder. With a quick glance around, his tired brain somehow put the pieces together. The khajiit was alone, no Cicero around, Neloth's angry shouts and Talvas high pitched screams painted a rather familiar picture in his mind.

Dragging his feet, he wandered to the main circular room. Before he could exit the small storage room, something made a strange shrieking sound and then there was silence again. The light was almost painful to his eyes, but he still managed to discern three people not very far and what looked like a pile of burned wood between them.

"I think it's… dead." Talvas sighed with relief, sliding along the wall until he reached the ground. He touched his own neck, as if to reassure himself it was still attached to his body.

"How did it got out here or better yet, how did you even got in there?!" Neloth exclaimed, waving his hands wildly. The old wizard couldn't even articulate his thoughts clearly as he stomped his way to a mild guilty looking jester who tried his best to look innocent.

"Cicero didn't mean to harm anyone." He replied as his voice faltered a bit. "Really! I mean, well, you see uh…" Cicero looked around nervously as the elf approached him almost sizzling with fury. "There was this lock here and it looked really fancy so Cicero thought it might be fun to try…" Neloth was standing right in front of him by now and each word of the jester's excuse slowly faded into some inaudible rambling.

It took several minutes to solve the whole argument. And quite a bit of physical strength too to keep Neloth away at a safe distance while the khajiit did his best to save his Keeper from being incinerated on the spot by angry master wizard while he apologized for the damage. A few cups of canis root tea later, thanks to Drovas so called "tea deprived master" senses going off at an alarming rate, and with their breakfast at hand, Kraid was able to sit down with them and listen the whole tale of the incident.

Being quite used to his confusing way of telling stories and somewhat honoring his title of Listener, Kraid did his best to translate Cicero's version of the events into a logical statement. Apparently, the jester woke up early in the morning, and since he did not want to wake him, started to wander around the tower under Talvas vigilant gaze, as Neloth was busy with his new set of dragon bones. It did not surprise the khajiit that as soon as Cicero discovered the room with the caged Spriggans his curiosity did the rest.

"I forgot to warn about that little detail, if there's a lock, Cicero can open it." Kraid explained with a weary glance to his follower who gave a toothy grin in response, actually proud of his skills. "And I can assure you that it won't happen again."

"I see. Well, your…" Neloth sipped at his mug of tea and seemed to think for a moment about how to address the jester as he slowly regained his calm demeanor. "Your friend has an unrivaled talent for that kind of… _activity_. Actually, I should use that as a warning that my locks aren't as safe as I originally thought." The elf shot a glaring look at the jester that almost said _"and don't you dare to mess with them again"_.

"If the Fool of Hearts is allowed to speak, I'm really sorry that the wood thingy tried to choke the kind elf." Cicero's tone really sounded sincere, and Kraid knew that the jester grew quite attached to his new friend over the few hours they spent there, maybe because Talvas seemed to really treat him kindly, even when the random dancing and occasional pranks clearly annoyed him.

Fortunately, only one of the Spriggans was set loose and it seemed determined to get its revenge against the elves. The unlucky apprentice just happened to be closer to it when Cicero unlocked the cage and was promptly seized by the creature's fearsome claws. Cicero did try to help, as he cut off one of the arms of the Spriggan, but it still held the dark elf by the neck as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll. It all ended when the creature suddenly burst in a ball of flames as Neloth finally appeared to see what was the source off all that commotion so early in the morning.

When it all seemed to be settled, they rose from their seats. Neloth however suggested that he still needed a replacement to his test subject as his last one was now a pile of singed wood. Kraid told him he could help to capture a new Spriggan as a way to repay the trouble but Cicero protested (quite loudly) and took his place instead.

"Are you sure that this is safe, master Neloth?" Talvas asked him in a low voice as he prepared his package for the hunting expedition, as Cicero named it. He still seemed a bit uneasy with the fact that both guests were part of the Dark Brotherhood. "I mean, what if they are here because of, you know…"

"Nonsense!" Neloth scoffed as if the idea was absurd. "You think that these two would still be sitting here right in front of us if they had a contract on our heads? I wonder how much someone would pay for that kind of contract though…"he added with a slight smile curling his lips. "But that's not important; now go get me that Spriggan."

And so the unlikely duo departed. Actually, it looked more like Cicero cheerfully dragged the terrified dark elf apprentice on his way, leaving the tower unnaturally quiet. The dragonborn dreaded to stay behind, but injuries caused by dragons took more than a few days to recover and a warrior that can't even hold his weapon properly would be useless on such a hostile environment.

Sighing, Kraid held his left fist in front of him as he closed his eyes, focusing his mind. Purple shadows glowed over his hand and when he opened it, the spectral form of Lucien appeared before him. The ghost greeted him with his usual deep voice.

"My Listener." He bowed slightly, his faint glow casting a blue light over the walls.

"Good to see you Lucien." Kraid replied while walking up to the railings that circled the room where he leaned over. "Care to do a favor for me?"

"My blade is yours." The late Speaker answered without doubt. "Just tell me the target and I will gladly send it to the void."

"Now, that's not quite what I have in mind, Lucien. But it may end up like that if something goes wrong." The khajiit explained while he wondered how the man would react to his order. "Cicero and a friend are going to hunt out there, can you keep an eye on them for me?"

He saw Lucien's ghostly features change to a surprised look. It was somewhat of entertaining sight. He arched a single eyebrow so high that it almost disappeared under his hood.

"My Listener?" he repeated, as if not believing his ears.

"I can't fight with my arm like this. I hope this will get better in a few days." He showed him the scarred mark running along his forearm covered with stitches that now had a horrible purple color staining his skin beneath the fur. "I know that they can take care of themselves but I would feel more relieved if you could make sure nothing tries to eat them on their way."

Lucien did not protest, but his face clearly showed that he was not used to being the nanny of two grown up men. However, he bowed and did as he was told, leaving as silently as a shadow. Kraid feared that once the man returned, he would have another story on his repertory, he could even hear Lucien going on like 'Have you heard the tale of the injured Listener and the Telvanni wizard? Those were dark times with a jester and the scared elf…'

"You know, for someone in charge of something as ominous as the Dark Brotherhood, you sound rather… soft for the job." He heard Neloth's voice behind him. "I've seen far too many strange and unbelievable things over the years, but I can assure you that you definitely got your place high up on the list by now."

Kraid laughed. It was not the first time someone told him that. And as a matter of fact, he didn't look exactly menacing at the moment without his armor, bent beyond salvation, so he gladly accepted to wear one of Talvas old robes. Actually, those robes were a bit too tight for him, as he was tall enough to look an altmer at the same eye level. He was also walking with bare feet around the tower, as it was far more comfortable and less noisy than his old steel boots.

It was then that he noticed that Neloth had been staring at his feet for a while.

"Something wrong?" he asked looking confused about the sudden interest.

"I wonder…" Neloth started as he scratched his beard and tilted his head to one side. "Are you willing to part with a few toenails?" Kraid stared at him in disbelief and took a step back almost on instinct.

"My what?"

"On second thought, don't mind me. I think it would be too hard to extract them appropriately with a living subject anyways…" said the wizard as if tearing khajiit claws out of their feet was a daily chore. "However I still wanted to examine what truly makes you that so called dragonborn."

Kraid wondered exactly how his toenails would even explain something like that but he chose not to argue. Neloth was brilliant and powerful in his own eccentric ways, and the khajiit admired that. Besides, he was not quite in position to call anyone crazy, as he often thought that maybe he was the most insane of the lot.

"Hm… maybe I could help with a small blood sample…" the khajiit ventured a bit unsure if that was even helpful.

"And what am I supposed to do with your blood?" Neloth asked while crossing his arms over his chest, raising both his eyebrows. "I'm a wizard not a vampire!"

"Sorry." He apologized dropping his long ears covered with golden earrings as he did. "I presumed that maybe you could use it for something but magic's not really my specialty. Even tried to attend to Winterhold's College, but…" Kraid trailed off as his memories of the incident with an angry Thalmor was quite fresh on his mind. And he still had the scar on his back that almost said 'Ancano was here' to prove it.

"Well, if you're so willing to help I believe I could make it work with a… different sample." The elf replied, approaching Kraid with a slight mischievous glint in his red eyes. "Now, hold still."

Confused and somewhat curious, Kraid remained there and only observed as the dark elf studied his face for a few seconds. Without any previous warning, Neloth unceremoniously yanked a few of his whiskers. The throbbing pain made the khajiit howl as hunched over holding his face.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed almost hissing like an angry cat. "That stings!"

"There, it wasn't that bad was it?" Neloth asked him with a smirk on his face as he victoriously held a handful of whiskers. Kraid tried to regain his dignity as he straightened his back once again, but his teary eyes betrayed him.

"If you wanted a few whiskers I could take them myself." The khajiit growled while rubbing his face.

"Now my friend, what's done it's done." Neloth quickly changed the subject as the sulky khajjit followed him around the tower. "As a way to reward your contribution I have something for you." He told him as he shuffled the mess of dwemer artifacts and books scattered around the table and carefully placed the whiskers inside a small glass vial. "I intended to show this when you first arrived."

"I just hope it has not anything to do with those damned Black Books again." Kraid replied slowly crossing his arms. "I've got my fair share of digging around Apocrypha for a while. And that means those nasty tentacle things too." He shivered at the memory, who knows what else was in that murky green water where those things sprouted.

Neloth seemed to ignore his ramblings and soon held a strange book in front of him and then placed on the table. Thankfully it was not a black book as he feared, yet there was something strangely alarming about that bright red and purple colored one. It somehow resembled something he saw before but he could not quite remember.

"What's that?" his ears perked up as his curiosity suppressed his bad mood. His bright amber eyes noticed that it had no visible title or anything written on the cover. At first, looked just like an old and odd colored book, however he could feel that it was not an ordinary one.

"That's precisely what I intend to discover." Neloth declared as the khajiit sat on a chair, his tail swirling behind him as he stared at it. "Take a look."

As carefully as he could, Kraid took the book in his hands and it somehow felt heavier than it should. While trying to not tear away the old paper with his claws, he flipped the pages and soon noticed why Neloth seemed so intrigued. It was completely blank.

"You see, there's some kind of secret involving this book. I sense the works of a daedra." Said the dark elf with a impatient tone. "Feel free to examine it, I tried a few times but nothing happened. Maybe someone like you can squeeze something out of it; you seem quite used to dealing with daedric artifacts and their devious owners." Neloth took his new sample and walked to the other side where he stored the dragon bones. "Now I will go back to my experiments."

For a long time, Kraid remained there poking and twisting the colorful book, looking more than ever an overgrown cat as his tail waved around every time he tried something different. It helped him to stop worrying about his friends out there for a while. The khajiit did try everything, at some point he was even talking to the book, yet it remained there, as old and unreadable as it started. He stretched his back with loud cracking noises after being hunched over it for so long. He was almost giving up when the sound of laughter startled him.

"Oh, finally some interesting results!" he heard Neloth amused voice not very far from him. "They seem to resonate with each other."

The dragon bones were reacting to those whiskers that Neloth took from him, they glowed a faint golden color every time that the dark elf approached the small glass near them.

"It makes sense I think." Kraid explained as he got up to take a closer look. "The Greybeards said that I have a dragon soul or blood, or something like that." He never understood quite well what being a dragonborn really meant.

"I wonder what will happen if I try a few things with them…" Neloth trailed off as he casually charged a spell over his right hand. The moment he cast it, something went really wrong.

An abnormally loud thunder roared above them. It was followed by the distinct sound of rain and powerful blasts of winds . They looked at each other for a moment, until it hit them.

Somehow, they summoned the mother of all tempests. On Solstheim nonetheless.

"Er… Neloth..." Kraid started a bit unsure about how to addres the situation without being too blunt as he listened to the howling wind and the water crashing against the walls of the tower. "Is that even normal around here?" he motioned to the tempest raging outside. Internally, Kraid just hoped that Lucien was waterproof; he didn't want to deal with an angry wet assassin ghost.

"I guess. Every now and then." He tried to sound calm but something in his features told Kraid that all that rain was _not_ natural. But to his surprise, Neloth just shrugged and proceeded to sit at his desk and take a sip of his remaining tea.

"Are we going to just sit here and… wait?" said the confused khajiit with a skeptical tone. He wondered how the other inhabitants of the island were dealing with all that rain. And how Talvas and Cicero were doing with the new Spriggan.

"As a matter of fact, I do think it's the best choice." The old master wizard answered almost immediately. "Or do you rather prefer to be soaked wet to the very core of your bones out there while shouting to the clouds to stop? It's just water, it won't melt the island."

"If you say so." Kraid sighed in defeat; the dark elf had a point. He decided to join him and tossed the mysterious book on the table as he pulled a chair and sat resting his chin over his arms. It landed with its pages open. For a moment, the tall khajiit twitched his ears. He rubbed his eyes just to be sure he wasn't seeing things. No, he definitely wasn't seeing things.

"By the divines!" he said looking at the book in disbelief. "There's really something written on it!"

The next thing he knew was that Neloth almost spit his whole mug of tea on him.

"For Malacath's hairy knuckles!" the old wizard exclaimed, completely ignoring what he just did to the face of his poor friend.

"Thanks for the bath, Neloth." The khajiit mumbled as he tried to wipe his face clean. He glanced at the pages again, this time covered in some sort of runes that he could not understand. He searched for the first page where he hoped they could identify the title. "Can you read it?" he asked looking anxious.

"Of course I can read it, you fool." Neloth replied looking quite offended. The dark elf held the book and squinted his crimson eyes as he looked to the runes. "Myths of Sheogorath." The wizard read out loud, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked a bit disappointed.

"Sheogorath?" Kraid repeated. "You mean that deranged daedra? I didn't even know there were books about him." He remembered the day where he met the prince of madness while walking around Solitude and stumbling on a delusional elf in the dark. Dervenin even managed to materialize a human hip bone from the depths of his cloak and promptly gave it to him like it was the most secret treasure in the world. It was at the same time an awkward and unreal situation to be stuck on the mind of a dead emperor, but it rendered a nice reward in the end. And he also met probably the friendliest daedric prince so far, had an odd sense of humor and a slight obsession with cheese though.

"Now that's kind of rude. Not that I mind. Really. I heard worse. But you see, this is the most unusual summoning I had in centuries." A third voice casually informed them, thick with a foreign accent. "May I ask what you little mortals want from my delightfully mad daedric presence on such a fine stormy day? I was rather busy with some sort of dragon at New Sheoth, the poor thing seemed to like flying backwards for some reason… did some fine stunts on air too."

"_Gods help us…" _Kraid gulped down a lump in his throat as he recognized that voice. He slowly turned around to look over his shoulder, wishing it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But the man staring back at them with golden cat like eyes and a wide grin was certainly too real to ignore.

Sheogorath was there, standing right behind them with his arms behind his back, as if trying to understand what those two strange beings were doing with his book. He even waved at the khajiit as he seemed to remember him from their last meeting at the mind of Pelagius.

Neloth seemed to recover from the shock first. He got up and pointed an accusatory finger at the daedric prince. "Your appearance is different but I still remember you, it was you who gave me this book years ago. It never occurred to me that the Madgod himself would venture to stroll around Solstheim giving trinkets to a Telvanni wizard nonetheless... " the old elf smirked at the audacity of the daedra.

"Oh, look who it is! It's my little magic elf friend!" Sheogorath laughed as he approached them, now showing a strange staff on his right hand. Without any reasonable explanation, he proceeded to hug a very disgruntled Neloth as if they were long lost friends. "I knew sooner or later we would meet again. I told Azura I was going to win that bet, I hope she still remembers it. Wait! Maybe I should have Haskill to send her a letter, he has a way with words. Once I sent a letter to Mara and someone misread my handwriting! Crazy, I know. You see, it ended up with old Hermy Mora, of all people. Oh, the hilarity it ensued! Now, where was I?"

**A/N: Uncle Sheo joins the party! Who knows what kind of mischief he will unleash now that he met a few familiar faces. **

**Next chapter will be a bit different, I think it will show some parts of Kraid's story, how he met Cicero, the trouble with Ancano at Winterhold and things like that, but I'm still thinking about it. If you have any suggestion, feel free to send it too. ^^**

**See you. =)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi! =)**

**I'm so sorry for the long pause since the last chapter, but now that college is finally over I can write again. ^^**

**Thank you so much for the reviews! **

**This time, we can see a bit of Kraid's life when he was still living in Whiterun. ;)**

**Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls V Skyrim belongs to Bethesda.**

– **Chapter 4 –**

Whiterun was a nice place. For most of his life, Kraid grew up on the woods near Helgen, so life in such a large city was a new experience for him; he enjoyed having a house of his own and a warm place to sleep in such an unforgiving cold land. Though one thing didn't change, life was never easy for a Khajiit. Specially if you're living in a place ruled by Nords.

And things just got weirder after being named the Thane of Whiterun.

That morning he somehow found his way back to Breezehome after a rough mission for the Companions. A pack of sabre cats has been attacking the farms around Whiterun for a while and Kraid was assigned to track down the beasts, three to be exact.

No one seemed interested in that particular task, apparently it was seen as a less important mission by the oldest members of the Companions as they were clearly worried with some other matter, and the rest of them didn't look that eager to fight sabre cats alone, even with the generous payment. Tired of seeing the people who lived outside the walls being ignored and simply left to luck, Kraid finally took the matter in his own hands, which rendered a new set to his already long and ever growing list of silly nicknames among the city inhabitants, "crazy cat" being the less offensive of the lot.

And so he spent two whole days hunting the wild beasts and attracting the most perplexed glances from the few passersby who ventured to walk those lands. Clad in a worn steel armor (mismatched pieces from the armory of Whiterun)that was not exactly fit for his size, an equally heavy axe (given by the Jarl after slaying his first dragon), an old dagger at his waist and a long bow strapped to his shoulders, he looked more like a sellsword than a hunter.

On the second day, as the sky darkened and the temperature plummeted down, he finally found them at the foot of the colossal mountain. With an unusual strike of luck, he was able to take one down with an arrow from a safe distance, though the agonizing screams of the animal soon alerted the other two fiends of his presence. Jumping from a nearby cliff, the second one fell to his axe due to a powerful blow that almost cracked the weapon in two with the impact, but the sabre cat still managed to slash his face with its fearsome claws.

Hot blood was pouring from his injured nose, partly obscuring his view as he wiped it away. Knowing that the last predator was still around, Kraid quickly tried to unlatch his axe from the beaten animal.

However, the last one which was also the largest and deadliest of the group, decided to play a different game.

A violent tug yanked him to the ground and he fell flat on his stomach, his claws dug trails in the snow in an instinctive attempt to resist the sheer force of his attacker; a searing pain alerted him that bones were cracking dangerously under an unforgiving pressure. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw that the huge sabre cat had started to drag him around by the tail to a more spacious area free of trees.

Rolling on his back but unable to get up and recover his weapon in time, the khajiit had only his claws to fight back as the snarling beast jumped on top of him, he felt his bow being smashed at his back as the overwhelming weight of the sabre cat over him tore it in two pieces like a rotten twig, its massive paws pressing the air out of his chest.

With a great effort and out of panic, he managed to stab the enraged beast with his dagger but the thick fur shielded it from a more effective attack. Forcing the gaping jaws off him for just a few seconds was enough to give him a chance to try a more desperate measure.

"…FUS!" With his remaining breath, he found the strength to use the foreign word as the long curved fangs tried to reach his exposed throat. Kraid had no idea of what that word meant but it worked and he was still alive.

For a brief moment, the sudden blow pushed the sabre cat away. Disoriented, the animal stumbled back, reading a second charge which gave him enough time to rise and strike back.

Kraid lunged at the beast, circling its thick neck with both his arms, in a deadly embrace.

"That's for chewing my tail!" he growled, forcing the beast into submission as it tried to toss him around, kicking and scratching him with its rear legs.

He could feel the sabre cat debating more desperately against his armor trying to free itself from the choking grasp, it roared and trashed as the khajiit tightened his grip. He couldn't say how long it lasted, but a loud snapping sound alerted him of the end of the struggle, as the giant cat fell limp.

His arms relished the relief when he released the now unmoving foe. He slid to the ground, too exhausted to move any further.

"Did I just strangle that thing?" he asked himself, looking at his hands still in shock with the feat.

Panting, covered in a mix of dirt, snow and slobber, the tall Khajiit looked up to the dark sky. It was a beautiful night sky with both moons, Masser and Secunda. As the frenetic beating of his heart slowly subsided, he sat and looked at his tail, the tip was bent in an unnatural angle, probably broken at least in two different places where the massive fangs crushed it. His nose was still burning even with the cold wind, but Kraid felt relieved.

"At least those people can sleep safely without these beasts hunting them in the dark." He thought with a satisfied sigh, his breath forming dense clouds before him. The last attack ended with an injured woman that unfortunately lost an arm while trying to defend her children from the wild animals.

That thought was enough to endure the long walk back, arriving at the massive gates of Whiterun at the same time the sun rose among the clear morning sky, the faint rays of light illuminating the small farms around its walls.

"My Thane!" was the first thing he heard as he opened his eyes, staring directly at a pair of steel boots. "What happened?"Lydia was standing in front of him, already wearing her armor and equipment. It looked like she was about to leave as he tumbled inside the room as soon as she opened the door.

"Cats… big snarling cats everywhere." He mumbled, still on the floor, too tired and sore to get up. "I think I twisted something." He told the Nord woman as she dragged him inside with a bit of difficulty.

"I presume your hunt is over?" Lydia questioned as he finally gathered his forces to stand again. Untying a small sack from his waist, three pairs of long curved fangs rattled inside of it. He could feel her inquisitive stare almost burning a hole on his back as he nodded. "You got hurt again." The woman stated with a disapproving expression at all the scratches on both his arms, the claw marks on his blood smeared face and to the missing part of his left ear.

"It will get better." Kraid shrugged as he fell on the closest chair, taking extra care with his tail. "See, I'm perfectly fin-Ouch!" he yelped slightly as he touched the broken tip.

Stomping her foot, Lydia started to gather a small basin, filling it with water and some clean cloths, she placed them on the table in front of him a bit too roughly. "You should see Farengar, he could mend that in no time." She added, pointing to his injured tail.

At the sound of the wizard's name, Kraid winced.

"No, I think I will be just fine with the traditional way, thank you very much." the khajiit replied with annoyance as he washed his face with care, hissing loudly as the cold water came in contact with the open wounds. "Ever since all that talk about being the Dragonborn, every time I see that man he stares at me like I'm some kind of living experiment of his." With a sideway glance, he saw Lydia rolling her eyes at his words.

"I still think you should have let me help, my Thane." Her voice had a moody tone, Lydia clearly disliked the idea of staying behind as she accompanied him a few times before. The proud Nord woman had her quirks too and was quite inclined to criticize his clumsiness at the most unreasonable times, but Kraid was happy for having a friend in such hostile place.

"It was dangerous for you to hunt at night, you can't see as clearly as I can." Kraid replied calmly as he removed the upper half of his armor, it was heavy and way too tight for him, hurting his shoulders. The heavy piece of steel fell on the floor with a loud clattering sound as he disentangled himself of it; the joints at his shoulders were almost burning with exertion. At that, she grudgingly crossed her arms against her chest, he had a point. "And people would make fun of you for helping…someone like me." He added a bit more quietly, dropping his ears as he remembered some unpleasant events when he walked around Whiterun.

Some of the inhabitants simply didn't care that Kraid decided to live in Whiterun, as he was more than willing to help them when they needed and he also aided the Companions. But most of the people preferred to talk in low hushed voices, even though his keen hearing was able to hear even the more distant whispers, while others just stated their distaste about his presence as plainly as daylight. He was more than used to that to care, but lately he noticed that Lydia was also a target to the ill talk.

"Let them talk!" she exclaimed slamming her fist against her armor. "A true Nord should know when to recognize anhonored warrior! And if someone has something to say about me or about you, l'm sure I can put some respect in their thick heads!" Lydia added with a confident expression, flexing her knuckles.

He raised both his long ears, each one had three golden earrings, surprised with her speech.

"Well, this _honored warrior_ just wanted to protect his only friend." Said Kraid now free to move more easily. Closing his yellowy eyes, he stretched his sore arms, one of them snapped loudly with the motion. "I guess I was worrying too much." He smiled gently back at her, showing his fangs. "I'm sorry for leaving you behind. It won't happen again."

His words seemed to linger in the air, for a while. As she calmed down, the woman addressed him again, for a brief moment she looked at loss of words. "Excuse my words my Thane, but that soft heart of yours will get you killed one of these days." She finally replied with a smirk, punching him on the shoulder. "You're the Dragonborn, you shouldn't think so lowly of yourself."

* * *

><p>Dragging himself, he still managed to leave those sabre cat fangs at Jorrvaskr and also received his payment. Now with enough time to calm down and wearing his more casual attire, Kraid started to actually feel how tired he really was.<p>

On his way back to the city on the previous night, he tried to make a silent return to prevent any other incidents with bandits, wild beasts, dragons and mudcrabs for some reason (those things simply hated him). But luck was never on his side for too long and the poor Khajjit slipped on a cliff still covered in snow, tumbling all the way down right in the middle of a giant's camp.

The colossal creatures just stared dumbfounded at his clumsy retreat among the herd of angry mammoths. Unfortunately, his axe was lost amid the chaos. But that was not his main concern right now.

His left ankle was so swollen and hurt so much that he almost didn't believe how he managed to walk back home.

"That looks… bad." Lydia stated a bit unsure of how to classify what she was seeing as she watched him struggling to walk around the house.

"I can assure you…it actually feels… even worse… than it looks."Kraid hissed at every step as he tried to move his leg without touching the floor and failing miserably. "This…pain is… maddening!"

"Are you sure you don't want to see Farengar?" Lydia piped one more time looking really worried.

"Yes, I prefer to live." came his grumpy reply as the Khajiit limped across the room, his bandaged tail swinging angrily in the air as he went.

"If you're so afraid of mages, why don't you try to learn a few spells? I'm pretty sure you can find some of those old books somewhere." It was not common the use of magic among the Nords. Surprisingly, old ruins and caves around there seemed littered with magic items and books.

When Lydia said those words, something happened as he suddenly stopped walking and looked down.

"I… I can't." he almost whispered. Tilting her head to the side, the Nord woman looked at him questioningly. Kraid gave a deep sigh before continuing. "… I don't know how to read." He finally admitted, lowering his head in shame.

"Sorry my Thane, I didn't know." Lydia tried to apologize, as that seemed to make him really upset.

"Don't worry." He told her with the best smile he could come up with his face still contorted with pain. "A man tried to teach me a few things about magic once, but it never worked. Even joked about how hopeless I was at that, unless some crazy daedra decide to bless me with enough ability to not set myself on fire." Changing the subject, he closed one of his fists in silence for a few seconds. "The best I could do was a puff of smoke and singe my fur."

And then, they both jumped back in surprise when flames suddenly burst alive, covering his hand with a loud sound.

"By the Nine, what the hell was that?" Lydia exclaimed with wide eyes at the sight before her.

"I-I don't know! This never happened before!" He exclaimed back in panic, looking even more scared than her. Temporary forgetting the pain of his injured ankle, he waved his arm wildly around as if trying to extinguish the fire. "How do I undo this thing?!"

"Stop moving like, my Thane, you will set something on fire!"Overcoming her state of confusion, the woman approached him and seized his arm with firm grip. "Just calm down!"

Slowly, Kraid took deep breaths as he tried to understand what was happening. The fire burned strongly but it didn't burn him. Once he got used to it, the Khajiit tried closing his fist a few times.

"It seems to be dimming now." Lydia observed.

He nodded, now a bit more calm but still wary, he could feel the fire consuming his energy.

"That's it, we're buying a horse." The woman concluded out of nowhere as the spell apparently ran out of magic power.

"Wait, what?" Kraid as he looked up with confusion etched on his face at the sudden change of subject.

"You wouldn't end injured like that if you had a horse." Lydia explained with both her hands at her waist. "It's a more appropriate way to cross long distances. And you really should see the Greybeards, there's something… different about you, my Thane. What just happened must have some meaning."

"I know that, but look at me, I can practically stand up while riding a horse." Khajiits are known for being rather slender and agile; Kraid however was a bit different from the rest, and what he lacked in speed was compensated in sheer strength. Reaching almost a 6'6" height, he probably was as tall as the highelves, and even without his armor, he looked way more muscular than the average Khajiits he saw on caravans around Whiterun.

Since he never lived with others of his same race, Kraid wasn't sure if that was something really unusual, but judging by Skyrim's standards, he certainly was as strange as the reappearance of dragons. Now with all the talk about him being the Dragonborn he started to think if it was somehow related to him being so… different.

Lydia eyed him carefully with a thoughtful expression on her determined face.

"I heard Skulvar has quite a selection of horses, he must have one more adequate for you."

"And how I'm supposed to ride a horse if I can barely stand up?" Kraid now seemed slight desperate to dissuade her from the idea. The young woman didn't answer him at first, marching towards her own chambers and soon reappeared with a small vial in her hands, which she tossed to him.

"I bought a few healing potions while you were out, thought we might need them someday since you're so uneasy around mages." He heard her say as he sipped a bit of the said potion and then emptied the whole thing. Kraid grimaced after coughing a bit. "Feeling better?"

"Well… I guess…" the Khajiit scratched his chin while he ventured to walk a bit again. He hated to admit it, but the potion was way more effective than he originally thought. "But why does this thing has to be so damn sour?"

"It worked, didn't it?" Lydia said with a victorious grin like she was dealing with a child who refused to listen to her parents. "Now we can go see Skulvar." After hearing those words, the Khajiit grimaced, almost shivering. That didn't go unnoticed. "Are you afraid of horses my Thane?" she lifted both her eyebrows noticing his overly reluctant behavior.

"…No…"

* * *

><p>"I told you this was a bad idea." Kraid mumbled with frowning face as he swayed with every step of his brand new mount, his ears flat against his head."Terrible idea! …I feel sick…."<p>

"And I think it would be a bit easier if you tried to follow the road, my Thane." Lydia tried to suggest as she walked beside them, accompanying the slow march of the horse.

"I'm not doing anything; it simply decided it wanted to go this way." He defended himself pointing to the rocky land ahead. "See, no reaction." He told her, pulling at the reins in vain.

After dragging the unwilling Dragonborn outside and many discussions later, they finally bought one of the horses at the Whiterun Stable, a huge black war horse named Dusk. Skulvar said it was the strongest of the lot and could carry his reluctant rider with ease. It had just a little problem: the horse seemed to possess a rather difficult temper.

"We are going to end in Dawnstar if we continue like this." The Nord woman stated looking around at their surroundings.

"If you have a good guess of how to make this horse listen to me, I'm more than willing to hear." The sulky khajiit tried pulling at the reins one more time. Then, he snapped his ears up. "What's that wailing sound?" he asked suddenly waking from his boredom induced stupor.

"I don't hear anything." Lydia replied a few seconds later. "It must be some animal from the farms."

"No, I'm hearing voices." Kraid looked down as if searching a way to dismount. "There." He pointed to the road near a small farm. There was a wagon standing on the middle on the road, he squinted his eyes a bit. "I can see two people arguing."

"Maybe some of the guards found a thief." The woman retorted looking uninterested. "Quite a common event. It's better if we just walk past them… my Thane?" she asked a bit surprised, realizing that only Dusk was walking beside her.

Not too far from an small farm, a Whiterun guard was standing beside the unmoving wagon, currently holding a strange man by the ear, who now was wailing and sobbing hysterically as the much taller man held him like a ragdoll.

"Open up the damn box, is that so hard to understand, fool?" he ordered looking on the verge of losing his temper. "Or do you prefer to rot at the dungeons instead?" his tone revealed that he had been asking the same question for a while.

"Cicero said again and again and again! He - can't – do - it!" the jester protested, stressing each word as tears were streaming freely from his eyes. "I just want to take my poor mother to her new crypt, there's nothing wrong with it, I swear!" and then he resumed his previous ramblings all over again about the broken wheel.

The rude nord sighed impatiently, twisting the man's ear again.

"Stop this hellish weeping, or I will do it myself!" When he released the man, the jester did his best to control his sobbing, clasping both hands over his mouth. "Good, now stand aside, fool."

"Sacrilege!" the jesteronce again crossed his way, gripping the edges of the wooden box in a strange protective gesture. "Unworthy! Poor Cicero did nothing wrong, nothing!"

With an impatient growl, the guard tried to unglue the man from the wagon but apparently he was not moving.

Finally losing his temper with the lunatic fool and eager to put an end on that matter for once, the soldier jerked the jester from the so called coffin, knocking him on the ground with enough strength to cause more than just a few bruises.

"Something wrong?" a third voice suddenly interrupted the scene.

"There's nothing to see here, citizen." When the guard turned around ready to dismiss any unwanted observer, insteadhe found himself face to chest with a freakishly tall Khajiit. His eyes got wide under the slits of his helm and he took a few steps back, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword.

"A-and who might you be?" he stuttered, visibly intimidated but still trying to sound calm and probably took the stranger as a thief.

"You're talking to Kraid, Thane of Whiterun and also the Dragonborn." Lydia soon added, catching up with them, holding Dusk's reins as the huge horse calmly trotted down the road with an air of complete boredom."And I'm his housecarl."

The guard seemed to recognize the strange duo as he silently noddedin respect but still maintaining a subtle distrust regarding those two. Especially Kraid.

"I see. Heard about you, got quite a reputation among the Companions _sir_." His voice had a slightly hint of contempt. "Is it true that you really killedthat dragon? People these days have been telling the most unbelievable stories in exchange for a few coins."

"What did he do?" Kraid asked without giving much thought to the question as he was far more concerned with the poor man who was now lying on the ground. Lydia however gave the guard the most menacing scolding glare that she could muster; on the other hand the oddly dressed man got up again and held the large box as if his life depended on it.

"Some people said he was causing trouble around here, pestering the farmers." The guard replied reluctantly, still not comfortable with the whole situation, he was used to keep Khajiits away from the city's walls not answering to them. "This one is completely out of his mind. Thought I should investigate this mysterious box he carries around saying it's his mother's coffin. It looks a bit suspicious to me."

At that, Kraid took a good look at the scene, the broken wheel almost forgotten on the road, the terrified little man who now stared at him with huge pleading eyes,and then to the indifferent soldier who looked somewhat engaged in an attempt to set them all on fire just with his stare.

"Looks pretty harmless to me, compared to sabre cats." He knew saying that was only going to rub salt on the wound, as it was well known that the guards had been trying to keep the incident with the wild beasts from reaching the Jarl.

"You don't know this kind of maniacs, sir. One moment they're singing and dancing and the next one they have a dagger up on your throat." The other man spat, visibly angered. "You wish to argue with the jester then go on! _Crazy cat…_" the guard muttered that last bit under his breath as he marched past them.

"That one used to guard Dragonsreach until Avenicci kicked him out after being caught drunk while he was on duty. Has the build of a troll and the brains of one too." Lydia told her liege with a frown. "I can take care of him if you want."

"No, let him be." Kraid sighed heavily; he was getting used to argue with the guards by now. Half of them already hated him after the day he set his feet on the gates of Whiterun, as he was trying to warn the Jarl about the destruction of Helgen. For countless minutes, he remained there slamming his fists at the gate until some of the guards tried to kick him out. No one seemed to believe him or his delusional tale about dragons, one them even implied he was probably under the effects of skooma.

That was also the first one Kraid knocked out as he made a break for the city's keep when a group of the Companions opened the gates. He could barely remember how he reached the chamber where Jarl Balgruuf's own housecarl stopped his desperate run with a painful punch under his jaw. The brave yet scared Khajjit only knew he had at least two arrows sticking out of his back when he finally collapsed on the floor after warning them about the imminent dragon attack.

"You didn't get hurt?" Kraid asked the jester, who watched the whole scene without saying a single word. His face was still stained with tears but his expression was hard to read, he could not tell if he was grateful or scared.

"Cicero is fine, kind stranger." Said the man with a big smile as he wiped his eyes, apparently noting that the Khajjit was friendlier. "Oh, I can't tell how grateful and happy I am!" And with that, the man clapped his hands and hummed a tune accompanied by a strange dance. And then, as if remembering something important, he lowered his head and hid his face under his hands with a frustrated wail. "Foolish Cicero, this is not the time to celebrate! We are still stuck here!"

"So, what happened?" Lydia questioned looking down to missing wheel of the wagon.

"Oh Cicero was traveling, traveling for so long but his destiny is so far way. But the wagon wheel!" he pointed an accusatory finger at the poor inanimate wooden wheel and then kicked it. "My dear mother lies here, so quiet and so... still! We need to reach her new crypt, a resting place, a new home but no one wants to help poor Cicero!" as he talked, the red haired man's voice reached high pitches every now and then.

Kraid took a look around; there was only a small farm nearby. As the guard said before, the jester probably tried to ask for help and it only in ended in trouble. He couldn't quite say he understood what kind of madness consumed the man but the feeling of desperation when no one believes you was something he knew too well.

"Lydia, go up there and see if there's someone that's willing to repair the wagon." He told her, knowing that if he went in her place the result wouldn't be too different from what Cicero got in return. "Tell them we can pay for the work, that might help."

* * *

><p>As they made their way back to the stables, Kraid now feeling much better as he walked with his own feet while carrying Dusk's reins on his hands. Though he had been hearing a strange noise for some time, and now he could distinctly hear Lydia giggling as she walked beside him, which was rather alarming. "What?" he asked, not understanding why she was laughing so much.<p>

"You may have to look out for the Thalmor from now on my Thane, seems like you have a worshipper." She said before breaking in a full laughter. The khajiit felt his face getting warmer.

"Yeah, very funny." He replied crossing his arms with a scowl as the woman had tears in her eyes for laughing so much. He didn't expect that once they managed to fix the wagon, the jester would simply try to squeeze his soul out of him with a spine breaking hug of gratitude. _"I hope he can find his way now." _He thought looking up to the sky, feeling glad for helping someone. It was not every day he met someone that didn't seem to mind if he was different from the rest.

"Who knows, we can still stumble on that jester someday." Said Lydia looking somewhat happy now that the khajiit seemed to recover his usual warm demeanor. Aside from the unusual appearance and the rather eccentric actions, the nord woman knew Kraid was a good person and for that she would gladly fight by his side until the end. But that didn't stop her from making fun of him once in a while. "I just hope he will not build a shrine in honor to his rescuer." And with that she burst in laughter again.

"I'm not listening!" he replied walking a bit faster and clamping both his hands over his ears.

**A/N: And that's pretty much how Kraid and Lydia spent their days in Skyrim. XD**

**Next chapter will show a very worried Kraid dealing with Sheogorath and Neloth's antics combined at Tel **Mithryn while waiting for Cicero and the others. ****

****I hope you liked this chapter and thank you for reading. ^^****

**See you on the next chapter. =)**


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